


The Old Ways

by IrishWitch58



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Odd things are happening around Q.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Halloween 00Q contribution. Spooky elements and romance as well. I love old tales and legends. The British Isles are full of Black Dog stories. None of them, that I know are quite what I have presented here, but I hope my variation on the theme works well. Blessed Samhain and Happy Halloween.

The days were getting dark much earlier. Q didn't mind and enjoyed his walks home. Sometimes they were the only exercise he actually got and certainly the only time he had entirely to himself. He made the second to last turn to his street and tutted mildly to himself. The street lamps appeared to have been vandalized. About a third of them were out in some random distribution. There was minimal traffic and he knew the way so he continued on. He might make a call to the local council and mention the lamps once he got home. 

When the noise came from behind him, he didn't react. His training had been precise on that point. If you suspect you are being followed, don't let the followers know you are aware. The careful footfalls were repeated, just a hair off the pace of Q's own strides. Q was armed, of course, but was not thrilled with the idea of shooting it out on a public street. He continued at his usual brisk pace, waiting until he was in a shadowed area to push the alert button attached to the inside of his coat. Q branch would receive the signal, turn his passive tracking to active monitoring, and send out reinforcements. He just needed to keep ahead of his pursuers until then. He didn't want to lead them to his home so he detoured to a street full of small businesses, mostly closed for the day, that offered less collateral damage if he did need to use a weapon. 

He heard a sudden increase in the noises behind him and threw himself sideways into a shop overhang, drawing the Walther CCP M2 that was his current personal weapon. The noises he heard were not getting closer but they were much louder. Something unusual was happening. It sounded as if there were more than two people and there was definitely a struggle going on. He wondered if his backup had arrived quicker than expected and was about to lean out and check when a sound made every hair on his body stand up. It was a long low growl, from a very large animal. Nothing human had made that sound. Getting a solid two handed grip on the pistol, Q led with the muzzle and poked his head around. 

Nothing. There was no one there. He walked back toward the corner. Between two streetlights, in the dim space where their illumination didn't quite reach each other, there was a dark liquid pool, smudged at one edge with what looked like an animal track. He backed carefully away, holstering his weapon as vehicles began streaking up, MI6 personnel moving quickly to usher him to the shelter of one of the armored SUV's as others spread out to search and a few examined the pool of congealing blood with it's enigmatic print. 

It was another three hours before he was finally able to go home. Forensics had confirmed the pool was, indeed, blood. The print was smudged and they asserted it could not be an animal print. Any beast possessing a foot that size was too big to go unnoticed in London. Larger sub species of wolves had feet close to that size but any in the London area were in animal parks and none were unaccounted for. They surmised it was some odd coincidental smearing of a shoe print, although a search of available databases turned up nothing close to a match. He was escorted home by a driver and a bodyguard and informed they would be back in the morning to take him to work. He sighed as he locked his door, resigned to increased personal security for the foreseeable future. 

He flipped on the TV to the news and left it on as background noise while he fed and tended to the cats and fixed himself some mint tea. He froze in the middle of adding honey to his cup when the announcer moved on to the crime stories. “A major mystery in central London tonight. The bodies of two unidentified men were discovered by a foot patrol officer in a narrow space between two buildings.” An image with a banner at the bottom showed the area, a location three blocks from where Q had called for help. “The bodies had no identification and were too badly damaged to be shown but these sketches were provided to us.” Two side by side images were posted on screen. “Police are requesting anyone with information to contact them. Reports can be kept anonymous.” The sketches and phone number remained on the screen for a bit before a fade to a laundry soap ad.

Q dialed his branch and asked for the night supervisor. “Briggs, the TV news just had a story about two bodies. Track it and get our forensics on it. I have a feeling the blood type of at least one of them matches what was found at the site I was at this evening. I'll want updates tomorrow morning.” He rang off and set his personal laptop to compile reports related to the bodies and finally showered and slept, troubled by odd dreams of giant wolves and bloodied fangs.


	2. Chapter 2

Q rubbed his tired eyes and replaced his glasses, peering out at the passing streets. He had multiple hits on his search when he checked his computer this morning but few had anything new. A witness who had come upon the scene as the police officer was calling it in had reported a sight like something out of a horror movie, blood everywhere and the bodies torn viciously. Q was utterly scientific and logical. But this just didn't make any sense. If these were the men who had been following him, how had they died and how had the bodies gotten to where they were discovered without being seen? 

He shook the thoughts loose as he entered the branch, greeting the staff and shedding his coat as he headed for his office. He pulled up the overnight reports and assessed the need for action on the ongoing missions. The most urgent had been completed early yesterday and 007 had checked in this morning. Odd that. Q was sure he had scheduled the agent's flight for around 1400. He should have checked in before 1800. He dismissed it as a Bond curiosity. It was a not infrequent occurrence to have 007 return from a mission and check in days later. This was actually prompt for Bond. 

Q turned his attention to the matter of the failed attack last night. He was reasonably sure he had been a target. But it seemed as if someone had intervened. He needed to find out exactly what had happened. Someone who could do what seemed to have happened was too dangerous to stay under the radar. He contacted the forensics department and discovered that they had already informed the police that they wished to take the matter under MI6 jurisdiction, a piece of news the police were only too happy to hear. The bodies were already transferred and autopsies would be done by the afternoon. 

Q turned his attention to his workload and was midway through his day when a knock on the door jamb preceded the arrival of James Bond, holding out a mug of gently steaming tea and wearing his usual enigmatic expression. “I heard you had a bit of an adventure last night,” he commented as he placed the mug on Q's desk and settled himself in the visitor chair. Q was also becoming used to this. He had apparently some interest for the agent. Bond spent a lot of his downtime in Q branch. Q wasn't unhappy. He got some excellent cups of tea and interesting stories and he got the company of the man most of the service, male or female, would have said was the most seductively attractive. Q was smart enough not to take advantage. He just enjoyed the company and never questioned it. And if he secretly hoped it might turn into something more, well, that was something he kept to himself.

Q completed the bit of work in front of him before raising his head to look over the top of his laptop. “I don't know that it amounts to an adventure, 007. I thought I was being followed. When back up arrived, there was no one there and, aside from a puddle of blood, no evidence anyone had been.” He picked up the mug and acknowledged it with a nod after the first sip. “Perfect,” he pronounced. He was about to ask Bond what he was doing there, aside from fishing and fetching tea, when an alert sounded from his computer. “Seems as if the autopsy results are in.” He began to pull up the screen he needed.

“Autopsy?” Bond asked, leaning around to try and see the screen.

“Police found a couple of bodies three streets over. Very bloodied and without ID.” Q read a bit further. “They both had the same common blood type and it's the same as the one from the pool we found. Report on the clothing says all the pockets were ripped open, moisture on the fabric consistent with,” Q paused and frowned, “canine saliva?”

Bond's face was set in what Q had come to call his mission face, the one where an observer couldn't read a damned thing. “Do they offer any theories?”

“Not much,” Q replied. “The wounds on the body might be consistent with canine bite marks but bigger than even a wolf.”

“Awful lot of work for a hoax,” Bond offered casually. 

“Yes,” Q responded quite slowly. “I mean, it really has to be a hoax.”

Bond stood up and walked to the door. “Still, you might want to be more careful about walking home.” And with that, he closed the door and left Q with his puzzle of two dead men, a puddle of blood and dog spit.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later and there was still very little known about the two dead men and the whole matter was being relegated to a minor footnote in the history of odd happenings at MI6. Despite his insistence that he didn't need baby sitters, Q continued to have an escort to and from work every day, as well as for any necessary errands. He found it all a bit ridiculous and longed for things to go back to their normal footing. 

He returned to his small house late one Thursday evening, waving back at his driver as he opened his door. He entered, relocked the door and reset the alarms and sent the required signal to notify the driver he was safe and the man could go home. He tiredly went about his routine, He set out food and was mildly surprised when his usually eager felines didn't come running as soon as they heard the rattle of the cans against the bowls. He wasn't overly concerned, but went looking to see if they had managed to shut themselves in somewhere. Both of them were on the back of the armchair in the bedroom. Gremlin was crouched, hair fluffed and ears back. Spock was stretched up, front feet on the window glass, staring down at the small enclosed garden. He was growling, a slow repeated hostile sound that startled Q. He was shocked. Both his pets were easygoing and Spock was truly aptly named as he never reacted very strongly to anything. The growling increased in pitch and volume to an apparent crescendo and then cut off abruptly. Both cats jumped down and left the room at a run. 

Q studied what he could see of the garden. The moon was a pale sliver and the back door light was not on. Motion activated lights had proven to be a problem as there were a variety of local cats and a few urban foxes who had the lights flashing on and off so often that he had decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Now he strove to discern anything distinct form the shapes of the bushes and the raised beds. The flagged pathways were more easily seen as they were lighter in colour. He had almost turned away, convinced his cats were overreacting to some commonplace noise when something moved. An enormous dark shape glided smoothly across one of the paths toward the back wall. For a second, a massive form hung silhouetted at the top of the bricks, then vanished. Q knew he was tired but he was not hallucinating. Something had been in his garden. He grabbed his sidearm from the foyer and a small torch and went down to the garden door. He entered his code and switched on the light. He swept the torch beam around the small green space as he advanced, searching for an intruder. He studied the ground as he moved along the path. He froze and crouched down, staring in disbelief at a huge paw print in the soft earth of one of the beds. It was a good six inches across. He moved outward in a circle and found two more tracks before he arrived at the wall and played the light over the uneven brick work. Something showed different from the rough mortar and he plucked out a tuft of black fur, stained at one end with red. He shook his head and returned to the house. 

The team from Q branch arrived fifteen minutes later, He let them into the garden where they set up floodlights and marked off a grid and began to search the entire space. The material from the wall was placed in an evidence bag and Q's hands were swabbed before he was told to wash them thoroughly. A medical technician annoyed him with a quick exam, leaving him alone only after he threatened to load their on line wish lists with 70's pop music and neon silicone sex toys.

A second wave of techs arrived just as he was getting some tea and, to his utter shock, Bond was trailing behind them. The agent helped himself to the teapot and leaned back against the counter, for all the world as if he did this all the time. “Bit of a fuss?” he asked. 

Q sipped his own tea. “Something was in my back garden earlier. Might be just a hoax. The whole thing seems too extreme.”

Bond raised an eyebrow. “Why a hoax?”

Q shrugged. “The cats saw or heard something. I saw something go over the wall. I went down to check and there were huge apparent paw prints and a swatch of fur caught in the wall.” He noticed a small bandage on Bond's hand. “What happened there?”

Bond waved his hand dismissively. “Scraped it changing a tire this afternoon. Takes too long to wait for the service.” Q nodded, understanding the issue. Rush hour commuters often waited hours for an auto service truck. The cats wandered out and eyed Bond suspiciously before edging around him and heading for their long delayed supper. “So, Hound of the Baskervilles is it?”

Q snorted in amusement. “More likely some prank. There is no variety of canine with feet as big as those prints. Probably some uni student wearing boots with something attached to the soles.”

“You're sure it's not anything related to that thing a few weeks ago?” Bond had finished his tea and rinsed the mug.

“Doubt it,” Q replied, letting him out, still not sure what the man had been doing in the vicinity but knowing he turned up when least expected. Oddly he was rather grateful for his presence.


	4. Chapter 4

Twelve hours later, Q wished he had not been so dismissive. The lab reports were there in front of him. The prints were canine in conformation but out of the range of any living dog or wolf. The material from the wall was dog fur, black and coarse, in line with a fairly shaggy protective outer coat, similar to a wolfhound. The trace fluid on it was the really weird thing. It was canine blood but with a percentage of human features. A new message dropped into his inbox as he was reading. Another body had turned up. This one was a quarter mile from his house and MI6 had already taken possession. There was evidence of a severe mauling by a large animal and canine saliva in deep wounds from fangs. Again there was no ID on the body. The difference was this one was on an MI6 watch list. The face, while damaged, had flagged a link to a known assassin working as a mercenary. On a hunch, Q set up a search for connection to the two previous bodies. 

He tapped his fingers on the desk and sent a message up to M's office. The dog thing was obviously a distraction. The problem was the assassin. A few hours later, and some delving into particularly nasty corners of the dark web, he found the link. All three men were receiving funds from an account in Nevis and that was just wonderful. Q hated dealing with their nonsense. They hid all kinds of dirty transactions and had disgracefully good safeguards in place. It took another three hours to find a circuitous route to the information he needed. The account was under a dummy corporation name of course but he could work with that. It all led to a source in Eastern Europe, a terrorist organization that MI6 had been interfering with lately. Several of their operations had been halted by missions Q had supervised. He wondered if they knew who he really was or if he was a target because he had been the only executive who had, until recently, had no routine bodyguards. But what the actual hell was going on with the dog thing? MI6 hadn't known about the contract up to right now. So who had taken out the assassins? 

He summarized what he had figured out so far, put it in a memo to M and sent copies to R. He closed out his programs and checked with the evening crew before heading to the main entrance to meet his escort. The traffic had already begun to thin out and the driver took one of the circuitous routes that were changed on a daily basis. Q wasn't paying much attention. The driver and bodyguard were both professionals and did their jobs admirably without input from him. He glanced up sharply when the driver jerked the wheel abruptly right. It wasn't quick enough. The impact from the heavy truck flipped the sedan completely over on it's roof. 

Q struggled with the seatbelt and shoved the deflating airbag out of the way, wanting to be as mobile as possible to meet whatever the next threat was. The bodyguard, a man named Thompson, was calling for back up while the driver hung limply from his harness. Q watched in horror as masked figures from the truck approached with a pneumatic ram and began hammering at the window with it. The impacts on already damaged structures had their predictable effect. Q settled himself back against the far door and checked his sidearm. Thompson clambered into the back seat and crouched in front of him. When the ram finally broke through, Thompson opened fire but was hit almost immediately. The attackers pulled him away and Q fired twice before a sudden burn seared through his right shoulder. He dropped the gun and was yanked out of the car. He landed on his back, glasses half off, vision blurred and fully expected his next breath to be his last. He was not prepared for the huge black form that leaped over the car and tore out the throat of the man standing over him. A gurgling gasp and a fountain of blood erupted as the man collapsed, eyes glazing as he hit the pavement. The second stared in horror at the monster that stood almost six feet at the shoulder, padding toward him. Huge fangs gleamed behind drawn back lips as a steady deep growl shivered through the air. The course black fur stood up along the beast's back, muscles bunching and rolling in the huge frame. The man got off a shot but the massive body launched itself at him, half tearing his arm off and then savaging his throat as well. Q lay breathing harshly, the wound in his shoulder throbbing, his attacker's blood congealing on him and watched as the huge beast turned toward him. It ambled over, feet making no sound, blood smeared around it's muzzle. He was unable to do anything and wondered if it would kill him as well. It was so close he could feel the warm puffs of it's breath and could scent the iron tang of the blood from the men it had killed. After a moment or too, it simply nuzzled at him, sniffing carefully at his shoulder and then stared at him with crystalline blue eyes. He thought he heard sirens before he lost consciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

The sounds and smell were distinctive. He knew where he was before he opened his eyes to the blur of institutional green walls. Careful hands placed his glasses on his face and Bond's face swam into focus. “Back with us, Q?” His eyes crinkled a bit at the corners as he smiled. “How do you feel?” 

Q frowned as he tried to recall why blue eyes were important. “Fuzzy. I'd guess I've been given a fair amount of drugs. How are the others?”

“Thompson lost some blood but was wearing a vest. He'll make it. Your driver didn't. Cardiac contusion. You were shot. Small caliber round chipped some bone in your upper arm but that should heal well enough.”

“What about the men who attacked us?” Q was reluctant to say what he had seen. No one would believe him even if he could put it into words.

Bond folded his arms and leaned back in the plastic chair. “The reports are spotty. The truck exploded a block or so away. It appears to have been a pipe bomb full of nails. The corpses were too damaged by the explosion to determine much. The theory is that they realized reinforcements would be coming and took off. They may have had the explosives in the car for some alternate plan.”

Q knew that wasn't right. Those men had been dead on the ground. “What about footage from the camera in my car? That had to show something.”

Bond shook his head. “R apparently looked. The camera may have malfunctioned. There's nothing on it. And don't try and get up,” he added as Q made a futile attempt and quickly subsided onto the pillow again. 

“Yes, indeed, Quartermaster. Please do not.” M spoke from the doorway to the private room, Moneypenny entering behind him. “007 is quite correct. The would be assassins appear to have blown themselves up. I am not entirely happy with that explanation but it does fit the facts. Do you recall anything useful?”

Thoughts scurried through Q's mind. He knew what he saw but there was no way in hell he could make his superior believe a giant black dog had killed both gunman and that the bodies had somehow been returned to their vehicle. A huge black dog with blue eyes. He looked over M's shoulder at Bond, leaning against the wall, eyes focused on him. “No, Sir. I must have passed out after I was shot.” He thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile cross Bond's mouth before he slipped out the door, silently.

M frowned and studied the far wall for a moment. “We can't be sure this is the end of this. I have 005 working on the terrorist cell that you identified as hiring the men who attacked you. If he eliminates their leadership, presumably the attacks will stop. MI6 can't afford to lose you. We've made no public statements but the little we have let out will make it seem as if you are either disabled or dead. Therefore, it would be best if you disappear for a bit. I'm sending you to a safe house, no electronic access, with a completely reliable bodyguard.” Q started to argue and was immediately shut down. “No arguments. This organization relies on your skills more so than any other single individual. We will keep you safe.”

“Pardon, Sir. But if my safety is such a concern, I could stay at 6 in one of the bunker rooms.”

M shook his head. “And just how long would that last? You'd be sneaking back into your branch as soon as you were able. We need time to get the money man and I would prefer you be out of reach until then.”

Q had a sense he had lost this battle before it began. “Who's going with me?”

“Oh you'll have the most competent agent available. I've already assigned Bond.”

Q closed his eyes. Of course he had.


	6. Chapter 6

Q was unceremoniously removed from the premises in a large shipping crate via a panel truck. Once inside, the crate was opened and he found Bond watching him warily. “Sorry about this, Q.” The man did look genuinely apologetic. 

Q almost said something rude but then reflected that they were both under orders. He settled onto the bench next to the agent. “I don't suppose anyone gave a thought to my cats?” Bond chuckled and gestured at the space next to the crate. Two cat carriers resided there. Gremlin was peering balefully out at the world which had clearly disappointed his little furry self. Spock had his backside prominently pointed at them. “How did you manage that?” Q asked.

“I lured them with the treats on the highest shelf. I figured those were the most desirable if they were that out of the way. I just gathered up the rest of their stuff and walked out. I stopped at a prearranged flat, belongs to one of your Q branch lot, walked in the front, walked out the back and here they are.” 

Q grudgingly acknowledged the logic and watched his pets. Neither seemed upset other than the usual disgruntlement that carriers and car rides induced. “They're not afraid of you.” He said quietly.

Bond sighed heavily. “I suppose we need to have a conversation. Let's wait on that for a bit.” 

A little later, the truck rolled to a gentle stop and the back door opened. There was a very sedate beige Range Rover parked in the warehouse. Bond helped Q out and down the step and across to the car. The truck driver carried the cats and made a second trip back for their gear. Q noted other bags in the back seat before Bond helped him with the seat belt and settled behind the wheel. They rolled out and headed for the M40. “Where are we going?” Q asked, watching idly as the scenery blurred past. 

“Shropshire,” Bond replied, “more specifically, Clun. There's a safe house there that's likely the most remote and least used of any MI6 property.” Bond shifted in his seat. “You wanted to ask something.”

Q turned his head to study the man, eyes on the road, alert and engaged in his ordered mission. In the light of day the whole concept was ludicrous. And yet. “The dog, Bond. I know I saw it. I might not have been sure at my place that night but I know what I saw after the car wreck. There was a huge black dog.”

“You didn't tell M that,” Bond countered. Interesting that he didn't even attempt to suggest Q had been in shock or concussed. 

“I was fairly sure that my security clearance might suffer if my superior thought I was prone to seeing such things. What exactly did I see?”

Bond seemed to consider a bit then began with something seemingly unrelated. “You've read my files. You know my parents died young.” Q nodded but didn't interrupt. “What the files don't tell you is I had a great uncle still living at the time, my father's maternal uncle. I visited him the summer before he died. I thought I was a smart modern kid. He was just telling me folk tales. He said he was a Black Dog, that he could literally change into a huge black dog when he was needed to defend his family or the locals. There are lots of legends all over the British Isles of Black Dogs threatening and carrying off people. He told me most of them stem from a few families that had bloodlines that could do this. The people telling the stories make it sound as if the dogs do this randomly but he said it's never that. It's always someone who's a threat in some way. Then he told me I was the only one left of his family to carry the burden. He said when he died, I'd know.” Bond was silent for a long while. Q thought he had done speaking. He took a deep breath and spoke in a lower voice. “Great Uncle Richard died that winter. I was still at school and I woke in the middle of the night and went out. It was dark but I could see better than I thought I could and something felt off, my joints ached and I could suddenly hear much more sharply. That's when I looked down and saw huge paws in place of my hands. I ran until I was exhausted, on all fours. I was fast and so strong. But I finally just came back to where my clothes were scattered and tried to think what to do. It was frightening to think I might stay that way but it actually just took an act of will to shift back. It got easier over the years. I don't like the term magic but I don't know what else to call it. And the camera in the car didn't malfunction. In that form, I'm not visible to cameras.”

Q blinked and made a connection. “You've used this on missions. That's why some of your reports gloss over things. It's where you shifted.”

“I don't use it much out of the country. It seems to take more energy overseas.”

Q nodded and looked at Bond directly again. “So, you've been following me?”

Bond nodded. “I was actually hoping to catch you at home that first night and ask you out for a drink. I saw the men following you and knew they were up to no good. They were armed and plainly stalking you. I shifted, caught them by surprise and eliminated the threat.”

Q felt compelled to ask. “You carried both of them three streets over? How strong are you?”

“All I know is stronger that a normal human or an animal of similar size. The second attack, that night in your garden, I had a feeling something was wrong. I tend to trust feelings like that. Anyway, I saw him go over the garden wall. I could hear your cats hissing and snarling. I climbed over after him and waited. When your lights went on I saw him raise a rifle. Before he had a chance to fire, I shifted, grabbed him and the gun, and went back over the wall. That scrape you noticed on my hand...”

“Was where you cut yourself on the wall,” Q finished. 

“You're taking this very well,” Bond observed.

Q gave a short laugh. “I may have a screaming fit at some point but right now I'm more curious. How about the attack on the car?”

“I had the radio in the car on. I heard the call out and wasn't far away. I parked in the next block and shifted as I left the car. I saw you on the ground and just lunged at the first target.”

“You might have taken them down with a well placed shot or two,” Q ventured. 

Bond, for all his usual imperturbable facade actually looked embarrassed. “Well, there's another part to the story Great Uncle Richard told me.” He cleared his throat and glanced over briefly. “Can we continue this later? There's actually a bit more that I will tell you but I'd rather not do it until I can see your face.” 

Q thought the whole thing was beyond strange but they should have plenty of time to talk in a safe house with no connection to the outside world but Bond's MI6 mobile. He turned his head to check the cats and then sank a little deeper into his coat. “That's fine for me. Wake me when we're there.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Q, we're here.” Bond's voice penetrated the hazy layers of sleep and Q opened his eyes. He blinked through the window at the rambling stone farmhouse with deep set windows and a slate roof. He struggled stiffly out of the car rubbing at his right arm absently. Bond was already grabbing the bags so he hoisted one of the cat carriers on his left shoulder and gripped the other in his hand and headed up the path to the door. 

Despite the quaint appearance, the house had the usual MI6 coded locks, hidden behind an old lock plate coated in patina. The interior was all warm colors and plush furnishings. When Q wandered through to the kitchen, the country charm was preserved there as well, although all the appliances were quite modern. He set the carriers down on the slate floor and waited for Bond to finish unloading the car and re locking the door. He put out a clean litter tray and bowls with food and fresh water before he opened the carriers. Gremlin peered out, gave a disgusted meow and marched straight to the food bowl, flicking his tail sharply to display his displeasure with his abduction. Spock made a wary and thorough circuit of the room. He paused by Bond, sniffed at a trouser leg and butted his head against it briefly than joined his feline brother at the food dishes. Q watched them for a bit then looked up at Bond, one eyebrow quirked up in question. 

Bond just shrugged. “Other predators seem to know what I am. Cats generally aren't bothered. Dogs tend to defer, as if I were just a bigger dog. Horses can be jumpy around me but only some of them. And no, I have no idea why all of that is.”

He moved around Q to the refrigerator which appeared to be well stocked and began to pull items out. Q watched as sandwiches were constructed and piled on plates. Bond appeared to consider the bottled lager but set out water instead. They ate for a bit, the cats wandering by to explore the rest of their new space. “So, the rest of the story?” Q finally prompted.

Bond swallowed the rest of his second sandwich and took a long drink of his water. “It seems Great Uncle Richard knew a lot more about the legends than appeared in local folk tales. We're meant to be defenders of the land and it's people in a very old sense. According to him, in more modern times we're drawn to the military or similar service to protect Britain. But we're also drawn to specific people. And I always thought he got that part wrong.” Bond's voice trailed away to a whisper and Q was aware of the intensity of the gaze fixed on him. “Great Uncle Richard insisted I would someday feel a connection to one person, a need to protect that person above anyone else. He swore that was how he had felt about his wife. He met her during the Second World War. She was working with the Dutch resistance. She'd gotten stuck on the Continent visiting family. He claimed he slaughtered an entire troop of Nazis to get to her. He swore one day I'd find someone that was like that for me. I never felt anything like that until that night I found those men following you home. The only thing I could feel was an urge to rip them apart. Understand, I have used the Dog before, but always as part of a plan. This was very different. This time it felt like it was using me.”

Q was stunned. Not so much by the improbable story. He had already decided there was more at work here than science and he might as well get over that quickly. But it sounded as if Bond were ashamed, as if he were admitting a weakness. “You saved my life,” he asserted. “As a matter of fact, you saved my life three times. You sound as if I should be bothered by that. I'm not. The fact you did it with very large teeth instead of a weapon is beside the point. I am alive because of your actions.”

Bond shook his head, the gesture clearly speaking frustration. “It's the why that's the problem. It's the connection. I love you. That's the only words that come close to expressing it and I'm not sure that even does it justice. And you must have some idea what results that has had for me.” Bond's face twisted in an expression that clearly told of the disastrous record of his romances. 

Q tapped a slender finger on the tabletop in an irregular pattern. “Just wait a moment. You said your Great Uncle told you this connection, this special person, was a once in a lifetime thing, correct?”

Bond looked up, brows drawn together. “He did, but...”

Q didn't allow the interruption, he just plowed on. “And you say you've never experienced the same sensations before?”

Bond's jaw stiffened, his mouth thinning. “I know where you're going with this...”

“Let me bloody well finish, you stubborn arse! You admit you've never experienced an emotion like this before so you can't generalize. I am not some idiot who needs coddling. I am resourceful and tough enough to make a career of MI6. Seriously, James, I may not have your sheer strength or field skills but I am more than capable of havoc in my own way. Maybe you needed to meet someone who didn't just need protecting, but someone who was a protector in their own way. Your Great Uncle met his wife in the middle of a sodding war and I doubt she was playing very nice with the Nazis. You don't need anyone else to protect. You need someone who can do that job with you.”

Minutes stretched out silently as Bond stared at him. “You do know I want you? You haven't said if that's OK. I mean it's not as if any of this is normal.”

“You never bloody well asked, you stupid sod. And nobody in MI6 has ever been normal. Normal people don't do the jobs we do. I admit this is a bit extreme but still, it is MI6.”

“But do you want me as well?” Bond asked again, insisting.

“Of course I do, you idiot! I thought you were supposed to be a spy. You are truly dense if you haven't realized that yet. And I would never have said anything at work because it would be damnably unprofessional. Pity you never took me out for drinks. Get a glass or two in me and I might have made a serious pass.” Q stood and leaned his weight on his good arm, hand flat on the table. “So let's have it all out in the open. I would very much like to get us both into the same bed at some point, although I seriously think sleeping is all I might be good for right now. What I would also like is to get a good clear look at your other self. Is that possible?”

Bond stood and copied Q's posture, leaning forward. “If that's what you really want, I can oblige. Just don't say I didn't warn you.”


	8. Chapter 8

Bond straightened and, although Q watched carefully, he was never sure exactly what happened. It wasn't instantaneous but neither was it like the time lapse of a Hollywood film transformation. First James was there, the same as he had ever been. A little later, there was an enormous shaggy black dog, in conformation rather like a wolfhound or deerhound, with long rangy limbs and a heavy ribcage tapering back over a more slender abdomen. Blue eyes still stared back with human intelligence. Q raised a hand, extending it to touch the coarse fur on the chest. James gave very doggy grin, displaying a mouthful of sharp white teeth. Q petted back over the solid frame of the ribs, realizing that James in dog form was still as tall as he was. The huge head turned back to look at him and sniffed noisily in his ear. Q giggled. “Do you understand me like this?” he asked.

The heavy tail swished once or twice and Bond set his posterior on the slate amidst his scattered clothes. Q knelt and set his hand on the floor and compared it's size to the massive spread of a front paw. At a quick estimate, the dog easily massed more than Bond's human form. He sighed. It made no more sense than anything else but it was impossible to argue with a huge black dog sitting in front of him. “I can see where the legends came from.” He watched in consternation as Gremlin marched back into the kitchen. He sauntered imperiously up to the intimidating canine and sniffed pointedly at the foot Q had been looking at. The canine head lowered and Gremlin rose on his back feet, balancing and sniffing there as well. He patted an imperious paw at the dog's muzzle and dropped back down having made some obscure feline point. 

Q turned to watch as the arrogant furry bastard pranced out again. When he turned back, it was to see a very naked James in human form sitting on the floor in the midst of his clothes. Q felt the heat rise up his neck, making his ears burn. “Um, the clothes aren't part of the process then?” He felt a sudden need to sit and sank down into his chair again.

James grinned. “Patently not,” he replied. He had the good grace to don his briefs but Q still got a very good look that sent his pulse rocketing. “So, yes, I can understand human speech but obviously can't answer. And you saw the way your cat reacted.”

Q tried very hard to keep looking at James' face. Everything else was too distracting. “You wouldn't be competition,” he mused. “I mean if you were an actual canine that size, a tiny predator like a cat would not be competing for food or space. And they have both encountered dogs before. I brought them on holiday to a friend's house and he has two dogs. I wonder, do you smell like human or dog to them?”

Bond had moved up to sit on the chair he had been using previously. He reached across the table and grasped Q's hand, running his thumb over the inside of the wrist. “This is a lot to take in and you were shot and in a car wreck in the past 48 hours. Try to shut that fine brain off for a bit and get some rest. And before you argue, I intend to join you. I just want to have a good look around the property first. You go up and I'll be along.” Before Q could raise any issue, the amazing transformation had occurred again. Q opened the kitchen door, reasoning James would change back when he returned and let himself in. It was a good thing they had no close neighbors. 

He trudged up the stairs, suddenly feeling the aching tiredness grip him. There were three bedrooms. The largest one, at the front of the house, was where he ended up. He had gotten half out of his clothes when he realized the bags were still downstairs. He gave a disappointed groan, flipping on the light in the ensuite and resigning himself to another trip downstairs. There was a plastic tub on the floor, with MI6 insignia on it. He snapped off the plastic wire tie that held the lid down and opened it. It was filled with bathroom and first aid necessities. Hell, it probably had an inventory designation in the data bases - safe house supplies / hygiene, personal. He giggled, a faintly hysterical sound, and dug out shampoo, soap and conditioner. A wrapped toothbrush and paste were tossed on the counter and he availed himself of a plastic wrap cover for his arm dressing. 

The hot water felt wonderful. He combed out his hair, brushed his teeth, decided to shave tomorrow, and padded to the bed. The duvet was cloud soft and he finished drying, dropped the towel, and scrambled under the covers. He idly wondered where James was. He had said he was checking the property but Q had no idea how much land was involved. He supposed doing it in dog form was logical as hearing and scent would give very good indicators of intruders. 

Q was dozing when he heard the door open and close. “Q, it's me.” Bond's voice from below reassured him and he listened to quiet footsteps advancing up the stairs. “I brought the bags up.” Q heard the sound of said bags being placed near the door. Bond leaned over the bed and peered down. Q blinked sleepily and went a bit cross eyed as Bond kissed his forehead. “I'm leaving this here,” he said as he deposited his sidearm and holster on the nightstand and plugged in his mobile as well. Q inhaled and smelled warm male skin and a hint of crushed grass. He heard the shower turn on, lost track of things again and half woke when the mattress dipped. A solid warm body slid in behind him and a heavy arm draped over him and the deeper sleep he needed finally claimed him.


	9. Chapter 9

Q awoke to luxurious warmth and the solid presence of another person in the bed. “Awake?” a low voice asked in his ear.

Q cast back, all the memories from the past two days slotting into place. He breathed in deeply, stretched a bit and relaxed. He certainly felt better for a night's sleep. “Awake and actually feeling OK,” he replied. 

James snickered. “You're actually cute when you're sleepy. When I came in you were already half gone.” 

Q shifted around and frowned at his bedmate. “You kissed me,” he said in a level tone.

Bond nodded. “Should I not have?” he asked carefully.

“I would have preferred to be fully awake for a first kiss,” Q stated loftily.

“Are you awake now?” James inquired seriously.

“I already said so,” Q retorted. As soon as he had finished speaking, James covered his mouth, lips soft and cherishing, the contact unhurried and thorough. Q blinked up as it ended. He licked his lips, considered the taste and ignored the risk of morning breath. He pulled firmly until he was able to angle James' head for a second deeper kiss as his body woke up in earnest. He was hard and James was, as unlikely as that might be, right there with him and was just as interested, as Q's wandering left hand ascertained. Q gave a very soft squeeze and James moaned into the kiss, bringing his body over Q's and slotting them together. He slid his mouth around to an ear, nipping and making Q shiver, hips rocking up against firm abdominals. James reached a hand between them and wrapped his fingers around both their cocks, exerting just enough pressure as he slid his hand up and back. Damn, the man was good at this!

The soft breaths in Q's ear formed words. “Just like this, nice and easy. Come on. Come for me.” The steady reassuring litany and the firm touches were pure bliss and Q tumbled over the edge without much effort at all on his part, James fisting his own cock for a bit longer before grunting and spilling as well. He slid sideways and made a grab for a discarded towel from the previous night to save the bedding. 

After the cursory clean up, he pulled Q into his arms and settled back on the pillows, toying gently with the edge of the bandage. “You should let me change that when we get up,” he commented. Q hummed neutrally, enjoying the utter boneless relaxation. “I'll make breakfast for you,” he continued. Q just snuggled in more firmly. “I scared some intruders away last night.”

That made Q sit up sharply. “Intruders? How many? You let them get away?” He scrambled for the mobile and his glasses before he realized James was laughing.

“Sheep, Q. I startled a herd of bloody sheep. And of course I let them get away. They're likely quite valuable animals. The ram was a game lad. Tried to charge me. I left the victory to him. I'm sure his ladies were quite impressed with his valor.” James managed to control his laughter finally. “The properties around here are loaded with livestock. Makes life easier.”

“How's that?” Q asked, finally getting his glasses in place. 

“Livestock prefer routines. Anything or anyone new disturbs them. Might give us an early warning if a stranger tries to get close.” Bond slid to the edge of the mattress. “And I meant it about breakfast so get yourself moving.”

Q contemplated going back to sleep anyway but both cats decided to complain vociferously about their starving condition. There was no chance of sleep once the hellions knew he was up. He grabbed clean clothes, brushed his teeth and headed down the stairs.


	10. Chapter 10

As promised, breakfast was being prepared as Q entered the kitchen. He refilled the cats' bowls and their water and make a check of the litter pan. The cats were already nose deep in their food when his own plate was plunked down in front of him, a mug of tea joining it a moment later. Bond settled across from him with his own plate and they both concentrated on food for a bit. Q was chasing the last bit of egg with his final triangle of toast when a question occurred. “Do you need to eat more when you shift. I mean your mass is greater in that form. It seems like it would need more calories.”

Bond sipped his own coffee and nodded. “I suspect that's why I don't gain weight as much as a man my age might expect to. I know Great Uncle Richard was quite a fit looking old fellow. Instead of doing a morning run or workout, I sometimes just shift and run until I get tired. I have to remember to stay away from anywhere habitable. A hundred years ago, people stayed in at night. Now they're out and about all hours. I'd rather not be seen. I'd likely end up with a troop of TV monster hunters trying to get a look.”

“But you said you didn't show up on cameras?” Q clarified.

“So far as I can tell, no. But if enough people saw me, it would be a bit of a nuisance.” He stood and put the dishes to soak and ushered Q back upstairs and out of his shirt. He laid out supplies from the first aid kit Q had discovered the previous night and removed the dressing. The area was massively bruised and had stitches front and back as the small caliber round had gone straight through. The surgeons had done a thorough exploration and removed a bone chip before closing. He put a smaller dressing in place and helped Q back into his shirt. 

Q hunted up the bags and took his prescribed antibiotics, fortunately a once daily dose. He found Bond staring at him, a careful, considering gaze. “Something wrong?”

“Just puzzled. You're rational to a fault. But the idea of a me turning into a Black Dog is something you accept with so little discussion. It's just a surprise.”

Q walked over and grabbed James by the shoulders so he faced him as directly as possible. “Trust me when I say I was more upset when I thought I might be seeing apparitions. What you are, man or dog, is a concrete reality. I'm not sure what the basis of the change is and it's certainly not my area of expertise. But it does happen. That is a reality I will have to accept. I suppose there may be something science doesn't see. There have to have been a fair few of your kind in the past to account for the legends and tales. I prefer just to regard it as unexplained at present. Now, is it safe to stretch my legs a bit outside?”

Bond hooked one of the bags with a foot and dragged it over. He leaned down and unzipped the top, showing a collection of firearms. He presented Q with a shotgun and a box of shells. “This won't look odd on a country walk. And I rather think you might have more trouble drawing a pistol with your arm injured. A shotgun is not precise but it is effective.” As Q was checking the weapon and loading it, Bond added, “Just please don't shoot the sheep.”


	11. Chapter 11

The property adjoining did indeed have a large flock of Clun Forest sheep, their elegant dark heads and creamy wool a lovely pastoral image. Q leaned on the top fence rail watching as the ewes foraged, the ram standing between his ladies and the fence. They shared amused glances as he looked at them, trying to decide why they were a threat. He moved closer to the fence as they moved away back toward the house. 

Without an available computer, Q picked out a book from the motley collection in the front sitting room. Bond got the gas fire going to take a bit of the chill off from their walk and selected a history book and settled on the sofa on the other end from where Q was engrossed in the copy of Asimov's collected stories. Q gradually shifted around until he was more sideways, then pulled up his sock clad feet. He read a bit more, then slowly and casually extended his legs. To his great satisfaction, James reached a hand down and rested it on the ankles, eventually rubbing up and down in a gentle massage. Q gave up on the book and slid further down. He felt the cushions move and his glasses were lifted away. He didn't need them anyway. He burrowed his face into the pillow next to him and dreamed. They were pleasant dreams but when he woke a bit later, he couldn't seem to recall the details. 

The room was quiet but he heard a voice at the back of the house. He found his glasses on the table near the sofa and followed the passageway to the kitchen. James was on the phone. “It's a bad idea, Sir. They're bluffing...Yes...I know that...And I am advising you that I disagree with this decision.” He punched the call disconnect and put the phone down. 

Q leaned against the door. “Trouble?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Bloody M. I know he has to answer the threat but I think this is a bluff.” Bond thumped the table top with a fist.

“What happened?” Q asked.

“That mission 005 was on fell apart. The cell leader got away. But there's an indication of another attempt being made on you. Nobody could know we're here. M and I were the only ones who were aware. I think what they're doing is making a threat and hoping the response will reveal where we are and M is playing into that. I know he's being overcautious about you but I also know he's wrong. I think as soon as our enemy sees where the back up is being sent, they'll make a move. And the team is already mobilized.”

Q thought that over. “M might send out more than one team, as a distraction,” he offered.

Bond's face assumed a grim determination. “Or he's baiting a trap with you. And before you tell me he wouldn't, remember that his position requires him to be utterly ruthless. Every person who's held the job has had to do similar things.” 

“How much time do you think we have?” Q asked. He cast a glance at the thick bullet proof glass of the windows. 

Bond's phone pinged, not an incoming call but an alert from the perimeter alarms. “None, they're here already.”


	12. Chapter 12

Not wanting to have them underfoot, Q sequestered the cats in the middle bedroom. It had only one small window in it's single outside wall. Bond handed him body armor and more shells for the shotgun including slugs. “Aren't you wearing armor?” Q asked as they checked the weapons and cached extra ammo strategically. 

Bond's grin was lethal. “It will only be in the way when I shift. And the Black Dog may be our best chance. Whoever this is will expect MI6 weapons and strategy, not that. It's so close under my skin right now, like it can sense the threat,” Bond brought his shoulders up sharply then twisted his neck, loosening the muscles. Q stepped in front of him, drawing him in, looking deep into blue eyes he would know anywhere, in any face. They kissed deep and sweet and held on to each other for long moments before Bond drew away. He dimmed the lights and shifted and Q opened the door for him to slip through, closing it securely after. The massive form melted into the velvet darkness. 

Nothing happened for long minutes. Q waited, the shotgun next to him, his nerves strung taut. Then there was a sound that chilled his blood. The howl rose and fell and permeated the night like a physical presence. Loud and impossible to pinpoint, it came from nowhere and everywhere. One second it seemed distant, the next, right behind you. It generated a visceral fear that struck even Q, even though he knew what it was. It was James, his Black Dog, hunting any enemy who would threaten him. It went on and on and then ceased, only to resume seeming to come from a new quarter. And then utter silence. Q strained to hear. James had left the mobile nearby. A quiet ping was followed by a rising series of snarls and growls and an agonized shriek that cut abruptly off. 

The silence went on. Q was sure there must be more than one, that James was stalking the hunters in the dark where he was so much better equipped than any human. A single shot and long drawn out agonized screams that died away to nothing and Q smiled to himself. Another one was dealt with. There was a series of noises quite close and Q risked a glance through the kitchen window. The newly risen moon was pale and slender and gave very little light but Q had found a pair of night vision viewers. He couldn't wear them over his glasses but he was able to see the gunman, rifle held in front, face a pale indistinct blob. He was clearly frightened, shifting and circling to look behind himself as his feet scuffed on the path. The darkness itself seemed to coalesce behind the man to one side. When he turned, he was confronted by a snarling mouth that clamped into his throat and ripped his head entirely off, the body dropping, geysering blood and the head throw off with a spatter of blood landing on the window and forming black streaks in the colorless view Q had. 

The howl rent the silence again, this time triumphant, as the Black Dog raised his head and opened his throat to voice his successful hunt. He prowled away again. Q was sure he was using those keen senses to make sure he had missed nothing. It was another hour before there was a scratching at the door. Q peeped out, saw the opaque darker than dark shape and opened the door. The Dog dropped down on the floor, matted with blood and ribs heaving, tongue lolling. Q ran quick light hands over his protector but all the blood seemed to be from their attackers, he found no wounds. He wondered that James didn't shift back but perhaps he was just too tired and so settled down on the floor with the Dog's blood drenched head in his lap. The breathing eased and between one moment and the next, he had a naked and bloodied James in his lap. They sat like that for a long time before James stirred enough to suggest they both clean up before he ventured out to see what damage he had done.


	13. Chapter 13

Q insisted on accompanying James to survey the damage. They collected weapons from the bodies and piled them in a storage annex. James fired a few rounds from several of their weapons for form's sake before they returned to the house to wait. The MI6 team arrived as they were having tea and warming by kitchen fire. Q waved off Medical and told the team leader he'd speak to M and give him a report tomorrow. It didn't quite have the expected effect.

The team on the ground was still trying to make sense of the scene and failing miserably. One poor soul, apparently a forensics intern, was huddled in the downstairs bathroom, vomiting every time he took a look at the body on the kitchen doorstep. The helicopter landed on the front lawn and M swept in on them, frustration clear in every line of his face. Before he had a chance to speak, Bond pointed to the back door and the floodlights. “Three assailants, all armed, all terminated. Q is safe and uninjured beyond his prior wound.”

“But the bodies, 007. The condition of the bodies is bizarre. And the local farmers are out hunting wolves. They claim they heard wolves.” M grabbed a mug and poured tea for himself, eying the dark stains on the floor slates near the door.

“There are no wild wolves in England, Sir.” Q's tone was mild and unchallenging. “Perhaps feral dogs got at the bodies?”

“And what about the forensics people who say the bullet wounds all look postmortem? What about that?” M was looking between the two of them and neither was giving an inch.

“I couldn't say, Sir,” Bond replied, smooth, cool and very slightly insolent. “I'm just the man you assigned to protect your Quartermaster. I did that. The threat is eliminated. It's not my job to theorize.”

M was grinding his teeth in an effort to maintain a professional calm. “Fine. You terminated them. There were feral dogs that savaged the bodies. That will be the official record. I wonder, however, do these feral dogs commute back and forth?” 

Bond didn't smile but Q came close. “I really couldn't speak to that, Sir. I am no expert at such things.”

It was insolence perfectly calculated to not be charged as insolence. M knew when he was getting nowhere. “Fine. Both of you get back to London. I'll expect written reports in 24 hours.” He looked down at a message on his phone. “Excuse me but I seem to have to address a farmer complaining about the noise upsetting his sheep.” He stalked back to the helicopter, coat tails flying behind him.

To his credit, Q was able to hold things together until they got to the bedroom. Once the door closed, he collapsed laughing. He wiped tears from his eyes after a several minutes of sustained hilarity. “You know he suspects something.” 

Bond nodded. “Certainly. He can't prove it and he's in the same position you were. If he opens his mouth to claim one of his agents changes form to a huge animal, he'd be given a very quiet forced retirement.”

They helped each other pack. “What happens in London?” Q finally asked, a sudden insecurity flooding him. 

“Up to you. I'll follow your lead on this. Official or not, I want to see you and I'd prefer that be every morning.” Bond grinned as Q blushed.

Q zipped a hold all and stared back. “Fine, we make it official. Paperwork and all. My place or yours?”

Bond's grin widened. “Yours of course. Dog in the house, you need a back garden.”

Q decided kissing was a good way to stop the nonsense, so that's what he did.


End file.
